Wednesday, November 22, 2006
REMINISCENCE OF A FALL PADDLING WEEKEND......
The one-month anniversary, special-edition, collector’s issue Moose Fest debrief. Gentlemen, and lady, it was truly epic. A road trip that combined solid mileage, mad boating, wild carnage, and the illest partying the NY boating scene has ever witnessed.
This was to be Zack’s virgin trip to the event that defines North-East fall boating and partying. In celebration of this cherry popping, we both relieved ourselves of employment commitments on Friday and headed south to catch a little Black River release as a warm-up. Unfortunately, I hadn’t managed to get out of work early enough for us to actually catch the bubble, so we got to enjoy a de-watered scrape-fest tour of what has to be the ugliest river valley in eastern North America. You know the run is going to be great when the locals at the put-in make sure you know that “y’all take out ‘fore de shit plant on the right after the third interstate bridge... “All this slalom training around shopping carts and household appliances (maybe this would work for the reconstruction of the pump house, it sure was scenic...) made us extremely hungry. We knew we were in the good old U.S. of A. when the girl behind the counter at a gas station said “Right here” and pointed at the cellophane wrapped bun/patty thing rotating in a heat lamp enclosure when asked for a recommendation for where to get a good burger...
We ended up having a fine spread put on by the Crystal Diner (right downtown, Watertown’s oldest dining establishment, I recommend the liver, make sure you get the fried onions, delicious!). When complimented on the warm status of the bread served before the mains (in my opinion, too few restaurants go this little extra step which makes such a big difference...) our waitress looked at me straight on and said: “So what y’all sayin’ is that you like hot buns?” before sashaying her way back to the counter. On the topic of hot buns, Zack created quite an impression with the young lady at the cashier, who, surprisingly, had to turn down our invitation to join us in Old Forge for the weekend due to work obligations.
The partying on Friday was truly epic. The strong Canadian dollar helped out on the pub-crawl, and while the guy/girl ratio was as skewed as a fall creeking event would suggest, a fantastic time was had by all, and vast quantities of alcohol were consumed. I’ve attached a photo of what we discovered upon the return to the crib.
Hangovers quickly faded after a few laps of Fowlersville, and in fact Zack was feeling good enough to put it all on the line and really test the DWR on his gear in a highly retentive pour-over at the bottom of a funky line at Double Drop. A couple photos of your gear in a beautiful, more controlled Adirondack setting have been included.
When we returned to town we were informed that a member of our party on his way down from Ontario to join the Saturday festivities and Sunday paddling had rolled and written off his car just a few miles out of town avoiding a massive buck, and the jovial atmosphere took a bit of a somber turn. Not to fear, turns out that while the car was done, he emerged unscathed, thanks in large part to the superior fabric of his Level Six clothing (see attached photo of the salvage operation). Keen on getting the party re-started, our buddy said he was ready to head‘er into town and giv’er. Give ‘er we did, right to the wee hours of the morning.
After being out onto the street by the bar we had just closed (the head barmaid got on the bar and screamed: “If you don’t sleep in the bar, don’t work in the bar, or aren’t sleeping with someone who works in the bar, get the fuck out!” a small band of the core and dedicated found themselves in the parking lot milling around, trying to figure out how to get back to their accommodations. During this time, Zack once again proved his unassailable character by downing a beer out of Ben Marr’s soaking wet, festering bootie as penance for his gear-testing exercise (while Ben did remove the insole, one has to think, this Zack is one dedicated dude…) The getting home part was proving to be a challenge, as some intelligent ones opted to hunker down in the parking lot (Ben and Pat Camblin got set to bivy in Ben’s red station wagon, the Motel Rouge…) others were driving the other direction, and as our predicament worsened, I realized that the only woman around was trying to hold a conversation. And she wasn’t bad looking. The conversation turned to how she was there with the band, she was a friend of the drummer since high school, and, cha ching, she had a room in the motel beside the bar! As she kept turning the conversation back to the room, I found myself separating from the group, making our way to the door, and shangria-la! There were three, count them, 1, 2,3 queen size beds in the room! As soon as I saw this I asked her whether we should start on that one, and then move to that one, and then back to that one before finishing on that one… she laughed, and coyly told said “oh, nooo, I don’t do casual sex!” I assured her that there would be nothing casual about this sex. When she laughed and said that the drummer was going to be coming back soon, I replied that we should probably get busy then, and all of a sudden it became clear, this young lady was interested in discussions on life in Utica and all the rest…so, with images of waking up in the morning and no idea where my friends were at, and shuttles missed, I hastily bid my farewell, and opened the door just in time to see a member of our posse roll down the highway, everyone packed into his van. No one in the van saw me trying to chase it down, and I settled in for the long hike back in the rapidly intensifying snowstorm…at 3:30 in the morning.
The next day saw us miss our check out, but we managed to find our way out of the motel through the towers of empties, pizza boxes, and boater refuse to get to town to have breakfast. The previous two nights had taken it’s toll, but even though numbers were reduced, lines were fired up before heading back upstate for a lamb diner and more hot buns at Crystal on the way back home.
The weekend was a perfect transition from Zack’s rock-star summer existence to the full-on fall creeking regime about to unfold. His carpal tunnel syndrome from signing thousands of autographs for admiring youth at the CNE behind him, Zack is poised to up the ante once again. I feel one would be hard pressed to conjure up a more perfect exposure for your products then his time at the CNE this summer; showcasing your gear to thousands of young spectators eager to try a new sport after being wowed by booming flatwater loops and cartwheels, combined with the coverage of your streetwise clothing line at the numerous after parties packed with media, adventure sports participants, and urban style fashionistas...traveling to an event like that, throwing down, adventure athletics, urban cool, the definition of lifestyle, and one company to take you from the session to the hot-tub after-party with the hip hop dance performers to the after-party after-date with the singer from Cirque de Soleil...
That’s versatility in your product line, and versatility in the athletes that represent you. The fall rains have been good to creeking, with numerous assaults on runs in the Adirondacks and the Laurentians completed over the past few weeks (but that’s another update…)
Dan
The one-month anniversary, special-edition, collector’s issue Moose Fest debrief. Gentlemen, and lady, it was truly epic. A road trip that combined solid mileage, mad boating, wild carnage, and the illest partying the NY boating scene has ever witnessed.
This was to be Zack’s virgin trip to the event that defines North-East fall boating and partying. In celebration of this cherry popping, we both relieved ourselves of employment commitments on Friday and headed south to catch a little Black River release as a warm-up. Unfortunately, I hadn’t managed to get out of work early enough for us to actually catch the bubble, so we got to enjoy a de-watered scrape-fest tour of what has to be the ugliest river valley in eastern North America. You know the run is going to be great when the locals at the put-in make sure you know that “y’all take out ‘fore de shit plant on the right after the third interstate bridge... “All this slalom training around shopping carts and household appliances (maybe this would work for the reconstruction of the pump house, it sure was scenic...) made us extremely hungry. We knew we were in the good old U.S. of A. when the girl behind the counter at a gas station said “Right here” and pointed at the cellophane wrapped bun/patty thing rotating in a heat lamp enclosure when asked for a recommendation for where to get a good burger...We ended up having a fine spread put on by the Crystal Diner (right downtown, Watertown’s oldest dining establishment, I recommend the liver, make sure you get the fried onions, delicious!). When complimented on the warm status of the bread served before the mains (in my opinion, too few restaurants go this little extra step which makes such a big difference...) our waitress looked at me straight on and said: “So what y’all sayin’ is that you like hot buns?” before sashaying her way back to the counter. On the topic of hot buns, Zack created quite an impression with the young lady at the cashier, who, surprisingly, had to turn down our invitation to join us in Old Forge for the weekend due to work obligations.
The partying on Friday was truly epic. The strong Canadian dollar helped out on the pub-crawl, and while the guy/girl ratio was as skewed as a fall creeking event would suggest, a fantastic time was had by all, and vast quantities of alcohol were consumed. I’ve attached a photo of what we discovered upon the return to the crib.
Hangovers quickly faded after a few laps of Fowlersville, and in fact Zack was feeling good enough to put it all on the line and really test the DWR on his gear in a highly retentive pour-over at the bottom of a funky line at Double Drop. A couple photos of your gear in a beautiful, more controlled Adirondack setting have been included.
When we returned to town we were informed that a member of our party on his way down from Ontario to join the Saturday festivities and Sunday paddling had rolled and written off his car just a few miles out of town avoiding a massive buck, and the jovial atmosphere took a bit of a somber turn. Not to fear, turns out that while the car was done, he emerged unscathed, thanks in large part to the superior fabric of his Level Six clothing (see attached photo of the salvage operation). Keen on getting the party re-started, our buddy said he was ready to head‘er into town and giv’er. Give ‘er we did, right to the wee hours of the morning. 
After being out onto the street by the bar we had just closed (the head barmaid got on the bar and screamed: “If you don’t sleep in the bar, don’t work in the bar, or aren’t sleeping with someone who works in the bar, get the fuck out!” a small band of the core and dedicated found themselves in the parking lot milling around, trying to figure out how to get back to their accommodations. During this time, Zack once again proved his unassailable character by downing a beer out of Ben Marr’s soaking wet, festering bootie as penance for his gear-testing exercise (while Ben did remove the insole, one has to think, this Zack is one dedicated dude…) The getting home part was proving to be a challenge, as some intelligent ones opted to hunker down in the parking lot (Ben and Pat Camblin got set to bivy in Ben’s red station wagon, the Motel Rouge…) others were driving the other direction, and as our predicament worsened, I realized that the only woman around was trying to hold a conversation. And she wasn’t bad looking. The conversation turned to how she was there with the band, she was a friend of the drummer since high school, and, cha ching, she had a room in the motel beside the bar! As she kept turning the conversation back to the room, I found myself separating from the group, making our way to the door, and shangria-la! There were three, count them, 1, 2,3 queen size beds in the room! As soon as I saw this I asked her whether we should start on that one, and then move to that one, and then back to that one before finishing on that one… she laughed, and coyly told said “oh, nooo, I don’t do casual sex!” I assured her that there would be nothing casual about this sex. When she laughed and said that the drummer was going to be coming back soon, I replied that we should probably get busy then, and all of a sudden it became clear, this young lady was interested in discussions on life in Utica and all the rest…so, with images of waking up in the morning and no idea where my friends were at, and shuttles missed, I hastily bid my farewell, and opened the door just in time to see a member of our posse roll down the highway, everyone packed into his van. No one in the van saw me trying to chase it down, and I settled in for the long hike back in the rapidly intensifying snowstorm…at 3:30 in the morning.The next day saw us miss our check out, but we managed to find our way out of the motel through the towers of empties, pizza boxes, and boater refuse to get to town to have breakfast. The previous two nights had taken it’s toll, but even though numbers were reduced, lines were fired up before heading back upstate for a lamb diner and more hot buns at Crystal on the way back home.
The weekend was a perfect transition from Zack’s rock-star summer existence to the full-on fall creeking regime about to unfold. His carpal tunnel syndrome from signing thousands of autographs for admiring youth at the CNE behind him, Zack is poised to up the ante once again. I feel one would be hard pressed to conjure up a more perfect exposure for your products then his time at the CNE this summer; showcasing your gear to thousands of young spectators eager to try a new sport after being wowed by booming flatwater loops and cartwheels, combined with the coverage of your streetwise clothing line at the numerous after parties packed with media, adventure sports participants, and urban style fashionistas...traveling to an event like that, throwing down, adventure athletics, urban cool, the definition of lifestyle, and one company to take you from the session to the hot-tub after-party with the hip hop dance performers to the after-party after-date with the singer from Cirque de Soleil...That’s versatility in your product line, and versatility in the athletes that represent you. The fall rains have been good to creeking, with numerous assaults on runs in the Adirondacks and the Laurentians completed over the past few weeks (but that’s another update…)
Dan
